


Better left unnamed

by DizzyChickStar



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/M, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyChickStar/pseuds/DizzyChickStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble reflecting Buffy's inner conflict over her feelings about Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better left unnamed

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third piece of fic ever and my first for the Buffy fandom. I just discovered the series(sooo late!) and watched all 7 seasons in an embarrassingly short amount of time. I am drawn to extreme natures and heavy angst in TV/Book relationships, so I am Team Spuffy all the way.

It wasn’t so much that she didn’t feel something for Spike. It’s just that he could never love her. Not really, no matter how many times he confessed otherwise. What they had was hollow, soulless, empty, just like what he was. What he could do, had done, was obsess over her, tail her, seeking to subdue and conquer her, like she was uncharted territory. And maybe she was, she supposed, as he’d never been intimate, scratch that…he’d never had sex with a Slayer. She could not claim the reverse; she’d been here before with Angel and she knew the dark truth of what they’d started and she wished she could be strong enough to turn off her body, to turn off that impulse to seek him out. And what was really scary was that she was starting to become confused about what was dark and what was light, what was wrong and what was right. He’d listened when she just had to tell someone what she was feeling; she’d imagined the telling as throwing a coin down a well. Who would Spike tell after all and who would believe him anyways? But then he’d begun looking at her differently, really looking. And though his body still sang his thirsty want, his eyes had begun to reflect something like need. This was supposed to be pretty simple, an equal exchange. Quick and dirty and easy to dispose of, like Dawn’s trash left in the backseat of her car. But this hazy, crazy mess they’d made was changing her inside because while Spike could not possibly have real feelings, he was demon inside of a shell after all, she could. And what she was feeling looked an awful lot like love. And love meant he could wound the tender parts that her restorative abilities could not heal. And that would mean she was more messed up than she’d thought: Why was she always drawn to doomed relationships? What did that say about her? Even before they’d brought her back. She hadn’t come back wrong. She was born wrong.


End file.
